


Postponed

by Tabbynerdicat



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, hurt/comfort I guess, two depresso bois just vibin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28148688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabbynerdicat/pseuds/Tabbynerdicat
Summary: Chase finds another concerning cry for help encrypted on his computer, confronting Anti and realising that his words can't change things for the better. But maybe they can postpone the inevitable.- requested by a tumblr anon :)
Relationships: Chase Brody & Antisepticeye
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Postponed

"Anti, can I…"

Anti's unfocused eyes lifted to his doorway, struggling to see beyond blurred lines and fuzzy shapes, the colours all jumbled together. Fuck, it was hard to tolerate this shit… He'd close his eyes, but the pain would only get stronger, the colours vibrant and piercing right through his aching skull. His lip twitched in mild distaste, but he didn't  _ feel _ annoyed. He didn't feel a thing, other than a mild sense of contempt. He hadn't known just how full he'd felt until there was nothing inside him at all, an empty husk of a glitch that  _ must _ have had some purpose once, some calling that was lost to him.

What day was it again?

Chase swallowed, walking inside and taking in the sight. Good lord, he looked terrible… Anti's skin was greener than usual, his eyes dim and lacking even a glint of the mischief that usually preceded something devastating. It wasn't the first time Chase had found him like this, and as much as he hated it, he knew it wouldn't be the last. Anti might talk to him, he might not- but he wouldn't talk to someone that could help. It was… well. More sad than anything. But Chase knew he didn't want pity. He sat on the edge of Anti's bed, fiddling with his fingers. It was never easy.

But someone had to do it. And in a house full of skeptic septics, Chase figured he might as well make himself useful for once and do what he could. He didn't want Anti to suffer, as much as he'd made them all suffer in the past. He saw a part of himself every time Anti didn't leave his room for days, or when he'd hear the glitch screaming at nothing, or in the moments they'd catch each other in the hallway, and Anti's limbs would be so thin…

He swallowed again. Anti was looking at him expectantly. They both knew why he was here. No point in dragging it out, right?

"I…" Chase began, forcing himself not to look away. "I found another one of your notes… it was causin' some trouble with my laptop so I had to look into it. This one wasn't that old… I guess I just wanted to know if you were gonna be okay? You don't like talkin' about it, I get that, but…"

"They're not 'notes'." Anti corrected lowly, picking at his nails absentmindedly. They'd already started to bleed. "We've been over this."

It took everything Chase had not to scoff. What else would you call the encrypted rambling of an unstable glitch in the system? Phrases, horrible words, sentiments Anti shared with nobody, if they were written on paper you'd call the authorities- but this was a special case. And as much as Chase hated it, he knew that calling the helplines wouldn't do any good. This wasn't some depressed teenager who had no secrets to keep, this was  _ Antisepticeye _ . According to the government, he didn't exist. No papers, no records, no history that could even pass as human. He was different, and most people hated that. Most people couldn't deal with Anti's special kind of existential baggage… Even the other egos had given up on him.

Not Chase, though.

If only Anti would listen when he told him that he cared. Being on the other end of this sucked… Chase finally understood how his friends and family had felt when Chase had been depressed, suicidal, drinking away his feelings and not listening to anyone's well-wishes or promises.

But that just made him more determined now. He didn't understand exactly what Anti was going through, but he could relate to some of it. To the heaviness, the emptiness, the lack of motivation… the loss of everything that made you who you are. Maybe Anti could see that. Maybe that was why he alone was allowed to enter the room, when the others only got the door slammed in their face…

Anti raised an eyebrow at him, his face so… neutral. It wasn't a good look on him. But Chase kept his mouth shut about that. He knew when his observations would only make things worse…

"Most people would call them suicide notes-"

" _ Most people _ would give a shit too, wouldn't they?" Anti challenged, dead eyes staring back at Chase, taunting him lazily. Maybe if Chase bit, Anti would be satisfied. And everything would go back to normal for a few days, and then the glitch would be a pain in everyone's neck again, until the day this cruel cycle would repeat itself, and he'd be back in his room, shutting out people who'd learned to dismiss this behaviour months ago.

Chase let out a heavy sigh.

"I've told you this already, and I know you don't wanna listen to it, but  _ I _ give a shit."

Anti scoffed, the look in his eyes knowing and sickeningly familiar as he shoved Chase weakly, slumping against the headboard.

"Because you're  _ weak _ ."

Chase didn't know why he put up with this. Maybe it was his own special brand of self-torture. Maybe he craved the shame and disgust he'd used to feel so much that he sought it out on purpose, returning again and again to Anti when he knew he couldn't change things. He bit his lip, and when his chest tightened with the same sense of realisation, strangling him from the inside like most of his truly honest thoughts… He let out the smallest, most insignificant sigh. It was wet, like his cheeks… his lips shook slightly, but he'd long since stopped feeling so upset over nothing. His body's reaction was nothing new to either of them. They'd been here before. Maybe, this was their fate.

"Chase."

Chase didn't look up, didn't even falter at the glitch's touch on his shoulder. He wasn't mad. He wasn't sad. He was… content. This was the way it always seemed to go. At least he knew what to expect.

" _ Please _ don't cry," Anti muttered, though he sounded less than sympathetic. Neither of them could have missed the way his voice cracked in pain, though. "It's fuckin' pathetic…"

"Yeah." Chase agreed, letting out a quiet huff as he inched himself further back on the bed. He knew Anti wouldn't refuse him. "I know…"

Maybe that was why he always came back. Why Anti always let him in, only to hit him with the cold truth that his thoughts, his ideals, his weak little human heart could do  _ nothing _ here. Maybe Chase was okay with that. Maybe Anti was okay with it too. Maybe Chase would rather find those awful notes again and again than have them stop one day, and have to deal with the loss of someone so… so… well. He didn't know when he'd started to care so much. Maybe it really was pathetic. But fuck, he couldn't bring himself to let Anti go. He was important.

Maybe to Anti, Chase was just as important.

_ A man could dream. _

"You gonna sit on my bed and cry all day?" Anti muttered in that apathetic monotone Chase couldn't stand.

Chase let out a humourless chuckle. He knew it was better than hearing nothing at all...

"You gonna stop me?"

Maybe these little interventions wouldn't ever make things better. Maybe they didn't need to. Maybe, their morbid exchanges were just enough to keep them both holding on. Just enough to bring the smallest twinkle back to their eyes, refreshed and ready for another brief eternity of nothingness.

The corner of Anti's lips twitched.

It seemed the fatal battle had again been postponed.


End file.
